


tomorrow

by JazzGirl123



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Undertones of depression and self loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 10:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzGirl123/pseuds/JazzGirl123
Summary: He’s convinced himself no one notices (or cares enough to, really), not when he’s able to pack up half his room, after hours of begging and pleading at the door, after realizing they’ve changed the locks already.Usually he’s able to spruce himself up in the restroom before his shift, but if he’s lucky, he can slip in with the morning rush of exercise fanatics and use the gym’s showers. If he’s really lucky, he can even grab some of the mini shampoo bottles they leave out for the members; it’s a nice gym, after all.It’s a pretty hard fall for a king, but he knows he’s still got more than most, so he doesn’t complain.|| Takes place right before the events of Season Three ||





	tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys :)
> 
> Still pretty new to writing these guys, so a lot of them is me trying to figure them out. This idea in particular though is something I've thought about a lot since watching the new season, so hopefully I've given it justice.
> 
> I hope you like it!!

It starts after graduation. 

Well, maybe even before that, when the letters come in, saying the same thing enough times that he had it memorized before they could even grab the letter opener. Still though, they had hopes for him, the anger - the disappointment - held at bay…..until the start of the summer, when the last letter comes in, from a local source this time.

More yelling that he tunes out, more disappointment that he’s used to by now; his credit cards get cut up (with the good scissors), though it hardly means much to him anymore. What’s a night out on the town when he’s got no one to spend it with?

He thinks, he’ll be fine, they’ll cool their heads and forget what’s happened before they even leave for their next trip, and then two weeks go by, and there’s more yelling, from seemingly nowhere, and there’s something different this time. 

The chain is kept on, and he ends up climbing in through his window; although it’s not the first time he’s snuck in, it’s not usually for this reason. 

They expect it next time though, and he’s grateful for the warm summer air as he rolls down the widows and curls up in the backseat of his car, now a bit worse for wear. He wonders how long until they take that from him too. 

He’s convinced himself no one notices (or cares enough to, really), not when he’s able to pack up half his room, after hours of begging and pleading at the door, after realizing they’ve changed the locks already. 

Usually he’s able to spruce himself up in the restroom before his shift, but if he’s lucky, he can slip in with the morning rush of exercise fanatics and use the gym’s showers. If he’s really lucky, he can even grab some of the mini shampoo bottles they leave out for the members; it’s a nice gym, after all.

It’s a pretty hard fall for a king, but he knows he’s still got more than most, so he doesn’t complain. 

He keeps up the act as best as he can, feigning annoyance when the bell up front rings at record speeds and the kids rush through the back hallways; honestly, he welcomes their intrusions, just glad someone’s happy to see him, that he’s still needed by  _ someone _ .

(No one senses any change, and that fills him with both relief and crushing disappointment.)

And then Jonathan’s birthday rolls around, and Joyce Byers wanders in to get him a pint of something special to celebrate. 

He thinks the other boy probably wouldn’t care where the ice cream was from, or if he had any at all, most likely insisting his mother save her money for something else, but no one is more stubborn than Joyce once she’s set her mind to something. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s sort of jealous of the Byers boys, to have someone love them unconditionally. 

It’s late in the evening, a good time before the last movie lets out, and so there’s little to no one in the shop as Joyce peers at every selection that’s offered. Even if there was a line behind her though, he would have been more than willing to glare at anyone who gave her a hard time.

Anyhow, he considers offering a few different flavors for her to try, but he doesn’t really know Jonathan all that well (their past being only half of the reason why), or what kind of ice cream the younger boy would like, so he keeps his mouth shut with a polite little smile. 

“Well,” she finally speaks up, stroking her chin thoughtfully, “can’t go wrong with rocky road, ah, excuse me, Nautical Nutty Madness, can I, Captain Steve?”

He flushes as red as the stripes on his uniform, cursing not for the first time the stupid company catchphrase he was being paid three dollars an hour to say. He supposes he’s just fortunate Robin isn’t closing with him or she’d surely make fun of him again.

“No, ma’am, you can’t,” he agrees, playing with his hat, now feeling the awkwardness seep in a bit more. “Do you want to sample it first?”

“Come on, Steve, it’s ice cream! Hard to mess that up,” remarks Joyce with a bright smile, even as she takes the little sample spoon from him. “Oh, it’s delicious. You know, I think Jonathan ate a whole pint by himself when he was six or so, tried to tell me the dog got into our freezer again. Couldn’t explain away all the chocolate on his face or his bellyache later though.”

Steve snorts at the image, though he finds it a bit hard to believe; Jonathan was always quiet and serious-looking in school, not someone you expect to chug an entire pint of ice cream just because ...or beat you senseless in the back alley of a movie theater, but again, he hardly knows the kid.

“One pint of Nautical Nutty Madness to go then?” He says, leaning on the counter. “I’ll even throw in some extra nuts, no charge.”

“Oh, aren’t you a darling,” coos Joyce, leaning over and ruffling his hair through the hat. He can’t find it in himself to be upset by it; actually, it feels sort of nice. “Oh, you know, throw in a pint of that, uh, Vanilla Bean Voyage too. It’s not every day my baby boy turns eighteen, you know.”

Jonathan definitely isn’t going to like his mom spoiling him, but what’s he going to do, say no to her? Be That™ customer and return ice cream to get some money back? Steve knows Jonathan’s worked in retail and would rather fight another demodog than be that customer. 

“You’re the boss,” he says with a grin, pulling out his scooper. He works fast, not wanting to disappoint the older woman, and insists on using his employee discount for her. There’s no one else in the store, and he admits to himself that he wants to be a bit useful. “Anything else I can do for you before I send you off on your journey of flavor?”

“Good god, yes, cut that out,” says Joyce, trying and failing to bite back a laugh. “You’ve always been an absolute delight, Steve, you know.” She blinks, as if having an epiphany ,and then lights up. “Oh, you’re closing up, aren’t you? Why don’t you come and join us for dinner tonight?”

He nearly trips on his shoelaces (and not the banana nearby, he won’t fall for that again, Robin), slamming his hands down on the counter in time to catch himself.

“I - what,” he sputters, blinking. He completely ignores the urge to immediately say yes, if only to eat a proper meal other than fast food and ice cream samples on his break for the first time in a long time. “I-I mean, I couldn’t impose on you guys like that, and - and I’m sure Jonthan would want more time with you and Will ...!”

Joyce gives him a look, and he finds himself nodding and agreeing to join her for dinner. 

.

“I brought ice cream!” She exclaims as she bustles through the door, grocery bags slung around her wrists. “And Steve!”

“Steve?” The younger of the Byers boys peeks his head in from the kitchen, cheeks smudged with chocolate that his mother is quick to wipe away. “You wear that uniform home?”

Steve flushes, waving away his embarrassment as he pats the boy’s head.

“No point in changing just to drive there and back,” he answers, setting the rest of the groceries on the kitchen table as Joyce immediately gets to cooking. “Uh, how you doing, kid?”

Will shrugs, coming over to help put the food away. 

“Fine, I guess, just miss Dustin,” he replies, “since Mike and Lucas are always off with their dumb girlfriends. Jonathan now too, so it’s kinda lame at home.”

“That just gives you more time to come up with cool campaigns!” Joyce suggests cheerily from the stove. “They’re just in a little honeymoon phase, sweetie, it’ll pass.”

“Sometimes with no warning,” murmurs Steve, finally reaching for the other groceries to help put away. He smiles faintly when Will tilts his head to the side and give him a curious look. “Uh, so, where’s the birthday boy?”

“In the shower,” replies Will, sitting at the table once everything is put away. “Picked up a shift at the gas station for someone after his job at the newspaper, I think he said.” 

“I told him not to overwork himself!” Joyce clicks her tongue, and a delicious aroma wafts through the air from the pan. “That boy can be so stubborn sometimes.” 

“Who are you talking about?” Jonathan asks as he enters the kitchen, drying his hair with a shirt he immediately pulls on once he notices the guest. “Uh, Steve? What…what are you doing here?” 

Steve is suddenly extremely aware of his dumb uniform and snatches the hat off his head, shoving it into the shallow pockets of his shorts. 

“Um, your mom invited me over for dinner,” he says awkwardly. “Happy-Happy Birthday, by the way!”

Jonathan stares at him for a moment before he clears his throat and nods. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. He goes over and kisses his mother on the cheek before helping prep some other ingredients. 

Opening the freezer, he pauses, surely noticing the two pints of ice cream, and glances over at the older boy. He cocks an eyebrow, and Steve merely shrugs, looking over at Joyce, who has their back to them. Shaking his head, Jonathan closes the freezer and gets back to work.

Steve and Will make small talk as Jonathan and Joyce whip through the kitchen, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he feels sitting there at the table. 

“Alright, sweetheart, happy birthday!” Joyce says with a grin as she sets the table. Steve tries not to drool at the sight of the hot mashed potatoes and Salisbury steak. “I can’t believe it, you’re eighteen and all grown up!” 

She hugs her eldest from behind in his chair, peppering his face with kisses, and Jonathan flushes a bright pink hue. 

Will, in the meanwhile, leans over and swipes some of his brother’s food, and Jonathan shakes his head, laughing and blushing all the more as Joyce showers him with affection, and Steve never feels more like an outsider in that moment as he sits across from them, a million miles away on the other side of the table.

And then Joyce looks up at him and flashes a smile so bright that it would be impossible to tell she’s been to hell and back, and she waves him over with a flourish of her hand.

“Get over here, Steve, let me take a picture of you three!”

He glances over at the birthday boy, still all pink and with tousled hair, and receives a sheepish shrug in turn, and so Steve slowly pushes back his chair and steps over to where Joyce is, taking her place as she scurries to get her son’s camera.

Will presses against his side, and Steve glances at him briefly right before the flash goes off and he groans.

“Mom....” 

Jonathan starts, but she waves him off as she fumbles with the camera. Only when she holds it up and tells them to smile does Steve realize it’s the camera he bought for him almost two years ago, and a bright, goofy smile fills his face a millisecond before the flash goes off again. 

“Oh, Jonathan, you weren’t smiling! Let’s do it again!” Joyce exclaims, already snapping another one. “Ooh, you blinked, Will, again!” 

Finally after what must be a million and a half pictures, Joyce sets the camera down and lets them eat their dinner. 

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s wolfing down the food until he scrapes the plate with his fork and looks up to see the other three only halfway done. His face turns red, begging his stomach not to give away how hungry he really is. 

Unfortunately life yet again works against him, and the growling noise fills the room, cutting Joyce off as she says something to Will. She looks over at him and smiles kindly. 

“Are you still hungry, dear?” She asks, despite clearly already knowing the answer. “There’s more if you’d like.” 

“I couldn’t…” Steve begins to protest, not wanting to be greedy, but there’s no fighting with Joyce as she scurries to get him a second helping. “Thank you, but you don’t have to, really-”

“Don’t be silly, Steve, you’re as thin as a stick and you’re as pale as ever,” she replies, filling up his plate. “It’s not good to overwork yourself, especially on an empty stomach. Did you have a light lunch today?” 

Steve thinks of the sample spoon of strawberry ice cream he had around noon, and nods slowly. 

“I guess so, yeah,” he murmurs, scooping some more mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Thank you.” 

“Oh, and you know, it’s going to be late by the time we have dessert, and I don’t want you driving home at this hour, so why don’t you spend the night?” Joyce suggests. “The mall is closer from here than from your house, isn’t it? You can even sleep in a bit before breakfast.”

It’s really been so long since he’s had a homemade meal, since he’s sat down with someone and talked about his day, since someone showed real concern for him, that he doesn’t even know what had happened until Joyce gasps and reaches for him.

With a jolt, he realizes he’s started crying. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” says Joyce, wiping his face as she stands over him. “What’s wrong?” 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid _ ! It’s so stupid, getting so worked up about something as simple as an invitation;  _ he’s _ so stupid! No one was supposed to know! Could he pass this off as something in his eye? Probably, right?

“I don’t have a home to drive to,” he blurts out instead, shaking his head. “I live in my car.”

He’s used to his parents not being around, to doing things for himself, but not like this. He knows he can pull it off, this adulting all by himself, but he’s barely nineteen with nothing but his high school glory days to his name. 

Joyce cups his face in her hands, wiping his tears even as they keep falling, and patiently listens as he gives her the short story of his parents kicking him out, of how he’s so skinny because he doesn’t eat right anymore, if at all, of how his neck is always cramped from sleeping in awkward positions in his backseat.

It comes out in a blubbery, incoherent, stuttering mess but she seems to understand every word as she nods and continues to stroke his face in some sort of comfort. 

At some point, Will slips out of the kitchen, but Jonathan stays by the door for another few minutes, an unreadable expression on his face, and then he disappears down the hallway himself. 

He knows better of them but a part of him thinks, they’re going to gossip about him, tell each other how pathetic he’s being for roughing it for, like, a month and a half, of how they’ve got real problems going on, but then he finally catches his breath and Jonathan and Will come in carrying blankets and pajamas, and Steve feels ready to cry all over again. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” whispers Joyce, pushing back his hair and kissing his forehead with such tenderness Steve feels like he’s six again. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.” 

She embraces him then, and with him still sitting at the table, he buries his face in her shoulder as she rubs circles into his back and presses more kisses to the top of his head. She is so warm and comforting, he can’t help but think he can’t remember the last time he’s had something like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her shirt, “I didn’t mean to….I’m sorry I ruined-”

“Steve, honey, enough of that,” she interrupts, her voice soft but firm as she pulls back ever so slightly to look at him. “You did not ruin a damn thing. Now, let me tell you what’s going to happen. You’re gonna finish up your food, go take a hot shower, and go to sleep. Get anything you need from your car and bring it inside because as long as I’m here, you are not going to be sleeping in a damn car. We can figure out the details in the morning.”

“I don’t - I can’t bother you like that,” Steve protests by instinct, not wanting to add more burden to this woman - this family’s life, but the temptation is all too strong. The glare she sets him with is even stronger though. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Joyce smiles softly at him and wipes the last of his tears away. He wonders when’s the last time he’s cried so much in one night. His breakup maybe? No, not even to this degree. “Are you still hungry, sweetheart, or do you need a minute?”

Steve glances at his plate, half full and most likely cold by now, and strangely enough the urge to shovel everything into his mouth isn’t as strong as it was about twenty minutes ago. 

“I think I need a minute,” he admits, giving her an apologetic look. She merely pushes the hair from his forehead with a small smile, and nods towards the bathroom door. “Thank you...for everything.”

He pushes back his chair and slowly gets to his feet, grimacing as he’s reminded of the ten hour shift he had just pulled at the ice cream parlor, before he makes his way into the bathroom. 

He passes Will on the living room couch, pretending to be invested in some figurine in his hands. Jonathan is standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against his bedroom door’s frame, and watching the older boy with that same look from before. 

Steve isn’t sure where to begin with them, so he shuts the bathroom door behind him and finally lets himself breathe as he slams his hands on the sink, closing his eyes. 

Just a few hours ago he was wondering what shitty burrito he could get for two dollars and fifteen cents at the nearby gas station, if he could afford to actually put gas in his car this week or if he would rather buy a pack of instant ramen to microwave in the break room, and now suddenly he’s got the offer of a warm bed and a full stomach for what he homes is an indefinite amount of time. 

In all, it’s a lot to process. 

He takes a breath that sounds more like a shudder, and goes to turn on the shower. He debates whether or not to rush it, like he does in the mall’s gym, but then he remembers Joyce Byers is not one to go back on her word and wouldn’t rush him either. In fact, she’d probably tell him to take a proper shower if he came back out after less than five minutes.

So he relishes in the steam, the lavender shampoo, the comfort of being in an actual shower and not just some cheap box with a flimsy dollar-worth curtain, and pretends for a second he’s home, that he’s just a normal teenage boy again. 

Turning the knob off, Steve groans as he realizes he didn’t get anything from his car yet and will have to change back into his Scoops uniform for now, but then someone knocks on the door.

“Are you decent?” Jonathan calls softly from beyond the door, and Steve realizes it’s the first time the boy’s talked to him since he entered his home. “Steve?”

Shaking his head and staying behind the curtain, he answers, “Uh, yeah, come in.”

Jonathan steps into the restroom, holding a set of clothes, hesitantly looking around the bathroom, avoiding looking at the other boy.

“Um, here,” the younger boy says awkwardly, and honestly, Steve doesn’t blame him. This is a weird situation, even for people who fight monsters and take on secret government labs. “We didn’t want to go through your things, so you can borrow my clothes to sleep in for tonight.”

“Thanks.” Steve shuffles behind the shower curtain for a moment, not sure how to ask what he’s about to ask but figures there’s no point in beating around the bush. “Why are you guys doing this? Why are  _ you  _ doing this?”

Jonathan blinks and finally looks at him, only to turn pink and look away again.

“Can I answer that when you’re not naked?” He murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’re behind the curtain but…”

Despite it all, Steve can’t help but grin. 

“Come on, it’s nothing you haven’t seen in the locker room,” he teases, even as he reaches for the towel nearby to wrap around his waist. “I’ve seen all of you too, remember?  _ Several _ times, actually.”

Jonathan’s flush deepens even as he scowls, striding towards the door. 

“Don’t say it like that,” he murmurs. “Just...get changed, and come to my room, okay? And don’t give me that look. My mom will kill us both if I let you sleep on the couch.”

The door shuts close once again, and Steve’s smile softens as he steps out of the shower, picking up the set of pajamas given to him. They’re soft and worn out, and smell like they’re fresh out of the wash. 

(He can’t really remember the last time he did his own laundry, but then again, he does wear one outfit.)

Steve slips on the clothes, tugging at the hemline of the shirt; he’s got quite a few inches on Jonathan, and so the other boy’s clothes are a bit short on him, but he’s not going to complain. 

He steps into the hallway, and immediately notices the lights are off, except for the light in Jonathan’s room. He’s surprised, honestly, having thought Joyce would try and talk to him more, but he remembers she does have an early shift tomorrow, and wouldn’t make him stay if he really did want to sneak out the front door. 

Actually, if he did, he’s pretty sure she’d just come over to Scoops and invite him for dinner again. 

So Steve makes his way to Jonathan’s room, knocking softly on the door before he pushes it open to see the other boy sitting on his bed. 

“Hey…” Steve says, voice quiet; he tells himself it’s so not to wake the other two people in the house, but deep down he knows it’s because he’s just  _ afraid _ . Of what? He isn’t sure. “This seat taken?”

Jonathan shakes his head, silently scooting to the edge so Steve can sit down next to him. The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, and honestly he’s not sure what he can even say. Although, he should probably start with-

“Thank you,” blurts Jonathan, staring at his feet, and Steve raises an eyebrow because that really should be his line. “Um, I never thanked you, I mean, for the camera. I…didn’t know it was from you then.”

“Oh.” Steve plays with the strings of the pajama pants, looking down at his lap. Not what he expected from them talking, but he figures it’s a good place to start if he wants an answer to the question from before. “You weren’t supposed to know. So...don’t worry about it.”

“Why didn’t you want me to know?” Jonathan asks, glancing at him. 

The older boy shrugs, tying the strings into a knot. They’re already sort of snug since they’re a size too small, but he’s just trying to avoid really looking at the guy next to him. He doesn’t have a great track record when it comes to talking face-to-face.

“I dunno,” he murmurs. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d accept it if you knew it was from me. Like, I guess, you’d think it was pity or something. And it wasn’t -  _ isn’t _ ! Just…least I could do, since I broke your other one back then. Kind of a dick move, I know. Huge dick move, actually.”

Jonathan hums.

“Not really. I mean...I was taking pictures of you and your girlfriend half naked,” he replies, his turn to play with the drawstrings. “Pretty justified.”

“Well, I mean, she’s your girlfriend now so,” and Steve wants to immediately throw himself off the roof of the building. “Fuck, I mean…”

“We didn’t talk about her either.” Jonathan lets out a long and heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You know. You came over to talk that night, but we never got to. But you know, I kinda realized after that, you weren’t as big as an asshole as I thought. And, uh, then I went and...slept with Nancy while you were watching the kids.”

“You  _ slept  _ with her?” Steve exclaims, snapping his gaze to him. He’s not angry, just genuinely surprised. “Oh, well...must have been  _ something  _ for her to dump me all over again.”

And he’s really not angry, honest, but a part of him will forever be just a bit sore he lost the first girl he ever really loved to some (then)  _ nobody _ .

Jonathan turns bright red.

“Sorry...I thought you…Nancy said you two talked…” He trails off, closing his eyes. “But then again, knowing her, talking is just....her saying something and then storming off.”

Steve can’t help it; he laughs.

“Yeah, she’s hell on wheels, huh?” He remarks, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. He’s over her, he swears, but it’s hard not to think about what it could have been like with her some days. “You slept with her, huh?”

The other boy nods, a bit slowly, like he isn’t sure how much to say. 

“Um, yeah. We didn’t plan on it, but um...it sort of just happened, after this guy told us we had a lot in common.” Jonathan clicks his tongue. “It’s a pretty shitty excuse for what we did to you, but I guess...we were just waiting for someone to tell us it’s okay.”

He clears his throat, suddenly getting to his feet. 

“Sorry, this is probably a sore subject for you-”

“It is.” Steve sighs, sort of wishing he had a beer. A smoke. Anything to help with his nerves right now. Then again, perhaps it’s for the best he doesn’t have any of those things. “But it’s not like I’m ever going to talk about it with  _ her  _ so...I dunno. I guess I want to hear the story from you. Not the stuff with that Russian conspiracist guy, but with…what happened with Nancy, I guess.”

He gets to his feet too, pacing the floor, unable to keep still.

“I just...I thought we were  _ happy _ , you know, then we had that fight, if you want to even call it that, and next thing I know, she’s off in another guy’s arms. For real this time though, not just me being an ass and misunderstanding you in her room.”

“You do realize you were pretty justified both times you were a mega ass to me, right?” Jonathan says after a beat of silence. “But if you really want to know...it’s not....that long of a story. You two got into that fight, she wanted to expose the lab, and I went with her to record them saying some shady stuff. We met up with that Murray guy who gave us some help on how to expose them and get justice for Barb like Nancy wanted, and then he let us stay the night.”

Jonathan settles back on the bed, running his hands over his legs as he sighs.

“He offered the guest room for us and we had to explain we...weren’t dating, she was dating you…” He glances at Steve, an apologetic expression on his face as he continues, “and Murray said something along the lines of how she  _ likes  _ the idea of Steve, but doesn’t  _ love _ him, that Steve - you’re safe and happy, but not the truth. He pretty much told us we had more in common than you and Nancy, were better suited, and…like I said, I guess we were just waiting for someone to tell us it was okay. And again, I know that was shitty, and I’m sorry, Steve, honestly-”

“The girl you love looks at you like she finally sees you, of course you’re going to jump at the first chance to be with her,” interrupts Steve, sounding as resigned as he feels. “I mean, yeah, it was shitty but I guess I can get it. We had a big fight about how I wasn’t what she expected, or wanted, apparently, and some tall handsome guy swoops in and offers her what she really wants. And if it’s the same guy she keeps trying to chat up in between classes and stare after even when she’s holding hands with her boyfriend?”

Steve lets out an empty laugh, collapsing on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. He meets Jonathan’s gaze, a small tired smile on his face.

“I know Nancy had the brains in our relationship, but it didn’t take much to notice the way she’d look at you, you know. I just...always thought I’d be enough for her, that she’d choose me. Or at the very least, wait more than, like, a day to be with someone else.”

He pats the spot next to him, and Jonathan slowly lays back as well, keeping his eyes on the other boy. Vaguely, Steve wonders if he plans on offering him his bed, which barely has room for one of them, never mind both of them. 

(Why does he assume they’ll be sleeping together?)

“Believe it or not, though,” Steve continues, “I am glad she’s with you. She finally looks relaxed, happy, now that she’s gotten some justice for Barb and gotten more adventure. And if...I had to lose her to someone, I am happy it’s you. You’d treat her way better than I did.”

“Why do you think you were a shitty boyfriend?” Jonathan asks, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re not the only one with eyes, Harrington. You were always giving her attention, being super affectionate and whatnot every time you saw her. I’d see the way you looked at her-”

“Yeah, and somehow you missed that she was always looking at you, Byers.” Steve closes his eyes, sighing. “Fitting I lose my girlfriend to the guy I harassed for years. Did I ever actually apologize for that?”

“I think you tried, but some demon from hell interrupted us,” replies Jonathan, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don’t feel too bad though. You were a different person back then; we both were, I think.”

Steve reopens his eyes, meeting his gaze. 

“Maybe, but doesn’t really erase all that time, does it?” He asks softly, and Jonathan’s tired smile is enough of an answer. “Which leads me back to my original question...why are you guys doing this? God knows I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves a home, Steve,” says Jonathan softly. “There was no way my mom was going to let you go once you told her - us - what was going on. Even if you  _ didn’t  _ fight off a hellish beast or help protect my brother and the kids from those demodogs, as Dustin calls them, she’d still offer you our home. And, just so you know, Will and I are on the same page as her about that. You can stay as long as you want. You’re...You’re our friend now, part of this...strange little family, for better or worse, Steve Harrington.”

He is  _ not  _ going to cry again, so he does something equally stupid: he kisses him. 

It’s quick and chaste, over before Jonathan can even gasp in surprise, and Steve pulls away, already ready to bolt and dive into his car and never come back because, god, all he does is fuck up his already unstable relationships-

And then Jonathan leans over and kisses him again, slender fingers pressing ever so slightly into his shoulder as he comes closer, and Steve’s heart begins pounding. 

This time, it’s slow and lazy, more of an experimental kiss than anything, test the waters of whatever is happening right now, but somehow it’s simultaneously too much and too little for Steve, touch-starved and cold, so he cups the back of Jonathan’s neck and pulls him down closer to him as he deepens the kiss.

He can see why Nancy fell so hard that night, honestly.

Jonathan kisses like he fights; full of passion and promise, like he’s going to lead you into a whole new world with just a few gestures. He supposes that’s exactly what he did, both in the alley and in the bunker. 

He isn’t sure when the shift happens, but Jonathan’s swung his legs over Steve’s waist, effectively straddling him, trapping the older boy beneath him, and honestly, Steve doesn’t mind a bit. 

But of course, they do need to breathe, so eventually they pull away, panting, but Jonathan doesn’t go very far, pressing his forehead against Steve’s as they try to catch their breath.

“So was I really right when I called you queer all that time?” Steve asks, using his half a brain cell to kill the mood. 

Or so he thinks, until Jonathan laughs, and his heart skips a beat. 

“I guess you were halfway right,” he replies, and Steve can’t help it. He tilts his chin up to give Jonathan another quick kiss, and is somehow still pleasantly surprised when Jonathan returns the gesture. “I do have to ask, are you really okay with this, with me?”

Steve hums, sliding his hands up Jonathan’s side, over his shirt, and smiles when the other boy inhales sharply. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he promises. “Always wanted to see what the big deal is, anyhow. Like I said, must have been something to get Nancy-oh, shit,  _ Nancy _ ! You’re still together-”

Jonathan kisses him again, his knees pressing against Steve’s hips, and the older boy forgets where his train of thought is going. 

“She’ll understand,” Jonathan murmurs, pressing his lips against a spot just under his jawline, and Steve unwillingly lets out a pathetic whimper at the gesture. “ _ Wow _ .”

Steve flushes red, and he shifts as best as he can under the other boy. 

“It’s been a while, shut up,” he mutters, trying to ignore just how much he’s enjoying being pinned down. He tugs at the hem of Jonathan’s shirt, cold fingers brushing over bare skin, and Jonathan shivers a bit. “You’re a good kisser.”

“So are you,” assures Jonathan, giving him another quick peck. Then another, and another, and another. It’s stupid, really, how much Steve’s heart flutters with each one. “Thought maybe everyone was just feeding your ego back in high school.”

Steve laughs into their kiss, sliding his hands under Jonathan’s shirt, slowly as if asking for permission, and then glides his fingers up his sides when Jonathan makes an affirming little noise. 

At the same time, Jonathan’s moved to bury his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, mouth hot against his skin as he peppers the area with wet kisses that has Steve gasping for breath, nails scratching lightly against Jonathan’s ribs and back. 

It really has been a long time.

Then suddenly, he’s burning up, arching his back up, as Jonathan sinks his teeth into his shoulder, and he scrambles to sit up, and Jonathan is giving him a worried look that quickly disappears as he pulls him for another kiss, hot and frantic this time, the promise of something more there, and Steve is tugging at the other boy’s shirt, groaning in relief when he gets it off, moments before he pulls his own shirt off, and then they’re falling against the comforter again, skin hot as their chests press together. 

Jonathan’s knees are pressing against his sides again, and this time Steve bucks his hips up to get some more friction, and this time it’s Jonathan’s turn to let out a pathetic noise as he does, which only arouses the older boy more. 

He’s never done this, not with another guy, so it’s mostly instinct guiding him as Steve slides his hand down Jonathan’s chest, abdomen, fingers brushing under the waistband of his pajama pants, and Jonathan tenses up until Steve finally slides his hands under, breaking the kiss as gets a good grasp on on Jonathan, who is now panting into Steve’s shoulder, hiding his face from the older boy as he strokes him.

That won’t do. 

Steve gently pushes at Jonathan’s chest, and the other boy pulls back just enough so he can see how red and flushed he is, how pleasure-wrecked he is with just this much, not even able to sit up all the way on his lap, and it’s fucking  _ incredible _ . 

It must be evident on his face just how much Steve is enjoying this because Jonathan groans and leans forward to kiss him again, fast and rough, hands sliding down his chest as he copies his actions from before, and suddenly Steve can’t even remember his own name, panting desperately into the kiss as slender fingers wrap around his length, thumb brushing over the head. 

“ _ Jonathan _ ,” he whines, hot and needy and absolutely desperate. He wonders how much more he can take. “Switch with me?”

Jonathan barely has the time to nod before Steve flips them over, giving him another quick and fast kiss before he’s sliding down, tugging at the waistband of his pants, and Jonathan hisses as he’s sprung free from the cotton confines. 

With no idea on what he’s doing, only knowing what  _ he  _ likes, Steve hesitates for only a second before he’s kissing along the length of Jonathan’s cock, heart pounding fast enough to think he’s seconds away from cardiac arrest, and Jonathan lets out a sharp gasp, covering his mouth with his hand as he moans, most likely to prevent anyone else in the house from hearing.

God, would Steve kill to be able to hear those moans unfiltered though.

“ _ Steve _ ,” he groans, gazing down at him with hazy eyes, and Steve can guess at what he wants. 

Rubbing circles on Jonathan’s thighs, Steve takes him in his mouth, inch by inch, nearly choking when Jonathan bucks his hips up harshly in response. Absently, he thinks he has to apologize to every other girl he’s done that to in the past. Right now though, he focuses on the boy fisting the sheets, whispering his name in frantic, hushed moans, who feels goddamn amazing in his mouth.

He’s not going to last long, Steve can tell that much, and desperate to get off as well, he reaches into his pants and strokes himself at the same pace he moves along Jonathan’s cock, his own moans muffled as he closes his eyes, feeling Jonathan’s fingers run over his scalp, tugging at his hair, and good  _ god _ , is that always such a turn on for him. 

He had a dream like this once, back in high school, except they were completely alone and pressed together on the bench in the boys’ locker room, the air perfumed with steam and desperation, and Jonathan had been the one on his knees, and Steve could remember waking up more turned on than his usual fantasies, but refusing to admit why.

Turns out this reality was a million times better than a random dream.

“Steve, I’m-” warns Jonathan, cutting himself off with a groan as he throws his head back against the pillows, only moving his hips faster. 

Steve hums in reply, causing a pleasant vibration around Jonathan’s length, and he knows he’s close too. 

It’s only because Steve knows the signs in himself that he’s not taken aback when Jonathan moans his name one last time, releasing into his mouth, and Steve tastes something warm and salty before he breaks away, coming all over his own hand, lips parted as Jonathan continues to spurt on his face and chest, and Steve really should not be as satisfied with that as he is. 

The two of them stay there for a good minute, just catching their breath, and then Jonathan props himself on his shoulders, looking at Steve with that same hazy expression before, just now with a loopy little smile. 

“You alright?” Jonathan asks, voice hoarse and quiet, and yet somehow amused at the same time. “Need another shower?”

“Asshole.” Steve reaches for the shirt he had borrowed and cleans himself off before he tosses it in a crumpled heap he assumes is dirty laundry. He’ll deal with his other mess later; right now, he’s just exhausted. “Move over?”

Jonathan scoots to the other side even though Steve finds himself pressing against him anyways, arm lazily thrown over the other boy’s chest. 

“So not to be that guy, but what is this?” Steve asks after a moment, resting his chin on Jonathan’s shoulder as he meets his gaze. “I mean…no offense, but you don’t seem like the guy to just have a one night stand.”

“Neither do you,” quips Jonathan, and he smiles, “I dunno, I guess…like my mom said, we can work out the details in the morning. Just enjoy tonight.”

His smile grows and he can’t help but lean forward to give Jonathan one last kiss of the night.

“Alright, let’s enjoy tonight,” he agrees, yawning. “Before the real world comes knocking on your door again.”

Jonathan runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, giving him a warm smile, and then he’s out like a light, and Steve buries his face into his shoulder.

Everything is shaky and new, but filled with a sort of promise, and for the first time in a long time, Steve looks forward to tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> You know, still debating whether or not to make this a mini series of what this would mean for season three....because oh boy, do I have ideas on how that could go too. Putting in any sort of coherent thought is gonna be the trick though lmao
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this, and any feedback would be nice :)


End file.
